Are Bullies Really Evil? - The Waste of Anti-Bullying Campaigns

Middle school is Hell.

I recall with painful clarity the daily emotional warfare that preteen girls are capable of waging. As a 13 year-old girl, I was blindsided more than once, caught in intricate webs of social ostracization, the kind that would make the producers' of reality television shows heads spin.

To be fair, I often was guilty of doing the blindsiding, too.

Middle school seems to bring out the worst in people. The drama and intimidation and psychological combat that run rampant through so many middle school hallways, fueled by rampaging hormones and an animalistic drive for a decent seat in the social hierarchy, can lead to some deep-seated long-term trauma. Sure therapists and pharmaceutical companies and New Age life coaches are reaping the benefits of adults still dealing with painful middle school memories. They're preying on the survivors. The ones who made it out, however emotionally scarred they may be.

The truth is that everyone doesn't make it out of middle school alive.

Yesterday, Daniel Fitzpatrick's family buried the body of their 13 year-old son. On Thursday, Daniel's older sister found him dead, hanging from a belt in the attic. "I gave up," Daniel wrote in a long letter about his struggles with school bullying.

Only thirteen. It's sad and tragic and horrible in a way that just can't be put into words, but makes me hug my own pretten a little tighter with a huge sense of gratitude tinged with a kind of panicky fear. How could something like this happen?

Source: Facebook

Daniel Fitzpatrick's tragic suicide, so close to the start of the new school year, has brought the subject of bullying back into the national spotlight.

And so we're forced to endure hashtag activism from formerly bullied B-list actors. In the coming months, we might see some cheesy PSAs that are supposed to be designed to plant seeds of hope inside the hearts of suffering kids. New legislation will be introduced in city council meetings. Zero-tolerance policies will be added to student handbooks all across the country (You know, the kind that place guilt on innocent bystanders who witness bullying but do nothing? The policies that directly contradict the zero tolerance policies about violence? Do nothing and you're screwed. Stand up to an asshole by implementing a well-timed throat punch and you're screwed, too.)

Local school systems will be forking out loads of their scant funds on the social program du jour: Anti-bullying campaigns. There are a bunch, many of them making wild claims about their effectiveness at creating "bully-free schools". For only a large investment of funds these companies will help school systems implement their programs. It's a win/win, right? The company makes money, the CEO earns enough to buy a beach house somewhere posh, and the school kids get a drama-free, totally smooth, non-psychologically scarring educational experience.

Except that doesn't happen.

At least not the last part, but that beach house is totally bitchin'.

The bullying doesn't stop. In fact, research shows that students who attend schools with anti-bullying programs are actually more likely to experience bullying than students at schools that lack a program. Statistics make it easy to think maybe all of this anti-bullying hooplah is just a money-making scheme with a social agenda to make us feel good about what we aren't actually doing.

I'm no bullying expert, at least not aside from my own middle school experiences (as well as more than a few parental interventions on behalf of my own children), but maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with the focus on what to do with the bullies.

We believe that bullies are evil incarnate and must be stopped, shamed, suspended, embarrassed, and exorcised right out of our school systems. We must search it out and exterminate it. For the children.

But sometimes the definition of bullying is so vague that almost anything that almost kinda sorta makes anyone uncomfortable might fall into the category. It has often been said that the harder you look for something, the more likely you are to find it. Does searching out bullies and bullying, actually create the thing we are trying to prevent? Because we are looking for it so we can stamp it out before it gets out of hand even if it isn't really there in the first place.

Maybe in doing so, we aren't giving kids the chance to learn the skills to manage disappointment and adversity all on their own. Adults and our anti-bullying campaigns will swoop in with our super hero red capes to save them. We wouldn't want little Johnny to feel sad. We can't tolerate anything that might even have the slightest hint of bullying.

I get that suicide is horrible and tragic. I get that Daniel Fitzpatrick's might have been prevented, and that makes it all the more horrible and tragic.

Daniel Fitzpatrick told his teachers. No one swooped in with a red cape to save him.

I can't help but wonder if we are focusing on the wrong things.

Maybe we shouldn't be lurking around corners trying to catch someone being mean or shouting about the evils of bullies. Maybe instead we should be trying to create more resilient people.

A child who knows that they are worth something, not because they've been told this through empty platitudes, but because they have proven it to themselves and others, children who understand respect and empathy aren't just better able to deal with the stress of being bullied... they are also less likely to be the bully.

It's weird how that works. By building up kids, creating situations where they can build their own self-esteem, prove to themselves that they are valuable and capable and strong, we can better prevent bullying than we could with any pre-packaged, over-priced, flashy program or zero-tolerance policy. Because bullies bully for many of the same reasons that kids suffer from bullying (low self-esteem for example).

We can't always be the ones with the capes, swooping in to save the weak. We need to give the weak their own capes and let them save the day for themselves. We need kids who can adapt to stress, who have a capacity to overcome and even be strengthened by life's adversities, instead of weak kids who need a safe space because words hurt.

Because adversity doesn't only exist on school playgrounds or within the cold cinder block walls of schools named after dead presidents. There are difficult human beings that we will have to encounter through all stages of our lives. I've dealt with bigger, meaner bullies as an adult than I ever faced as a school kid (and that's saying something considering how my "best friend" treated me in 7th grade). And once out in the real world, dealing with asshole neighbors and co-workers and government employees and waitresses with issues, there won't be any expensive anti-bullying programs to hide behind when people are mean. We can't shelter children from ever hurtful word or mean person and then expect them to magically deal with them once they turn eighteen.

We need to be focusing on raising kids who can suck it up, who can cope with hardship, who have such a confident sense of self that it doesn't make them feel less when someone doesn't like them. And yeah... we probably need kids with a sense of humor, ones who don't get completely butt-hurt when someone says something slightly crude or demeaning or inappropriate (like "butt-hurt" for example).

A kid with strong qualities like that... well, it won't matter what someone throws at them. Unless it's a wild right hook. But you can sign them up for martial arts classes to help them deal with that (Funny thing is: martial arts helps foster all of those other anti-bully qualities like self-respect, confidence, and tenacity, too. But that's a whole other blog topic).

I'm just saying that maybe, just maybe, it isn't about the bullies. Maybe it's never been about the bullies. Maybe we just need to raise better kids.

Maybe we just need to teach our kids to both literally and figuratively take a punch and have them keep on swinging. Maybe there are better things we can spend our money on than ineffective yet sanctimoniously satisfying anti-bullying programs. (Shameless martial arts plug: Karate only costs about $60 a month. That's way cheaper than the thousands the school systems spend on those stupid campaigns... Just sayin'.)

Self-Esteem, Hip Tosses, and Bad Internet Quotes

On Monday night, I watched my tiny eleven year-old daughter hip toss three grown men. (Don't worry, it was during a karate class. She's not out thugging on the streets.) The average weight of her victims is well over 200 pounds and one of them, at almost 6' 2" towers over her by significantly more than a foot. She accepted the challenge with confidence and skill. It seemed almost effortless on her part as body after body landed with a booming thud on the mat. It was a thing of beauty.

Her performance was met with light applause and some pats on the back, a few high fives from the adults she had thrown. She beamed. I know she's still thinking about it several days later, because she keeps bringing it up in conversation. She has commented on how easy it seemed and how surprised and pleased she was by that. She's anxious to do it again and can't wait for the next opportunity. She is so apparently proud of herself (as she should be. Not every eleven year-old kid spends their days flinging hefty grown-ups around).

Those short moments when she hoisted those heavy men and slammed them on the floor, and the moments afterward when she basked in her accomplishment boosted her self-confidence and self-esteem in ways I never could have accomplished as her mother . There are not sufficient compliments or assurances or affirmations I could have whispered in her ear. And while I could have perhaps tossed those men (although admittedly without the grace and skill she mustered) for her... it wouldn't have had the same benefit.

Within hours of watching my daughter bask in the thrill of accomplishment, I saw something online that was so starkly contradictory to her experience.  There are a few nifty little internet inspirational images floating around out there with a quote from Alvin Price. It seems like a nice enough saying. Plus it's most often paired with the stereotypical cheesy picture of small children smiling or playing on the beach, but I think it might be sending the wrong message to parents who sincerely want their children to be successful.

"Parents need to fill a child's bucket of self-esteem so high that the rest of the world can't poke enough holes to drain it dry..."

Perhaps I cringe a little because I am imagining a hovering mother shouting praises at her child all day  long for the most insignificant things, telling him how wonderful he is, how smart, how attractive, how proud she is of him. The quote conjures up super-sappy mom pouring platitudes of praise into her bratty little kid's puffed up ego.

But it's all a sham.

You see, there's a huge difference between egotism and self-esteem. Egotism is a superficially inflated opinion of one's self-importance. It's superficial because the poor waif hasn't done anything to feel good about himself. He just thinks he's wonderful because Mommy and Daddy have told him again and again and again how special and talented and awesome he is. Egotism is what is built daily by overly complimentary parents. Filling a child's bucket with unsubstantiated praise doesn't defend him against the holes the world tries to poke - and the world is a cruel and heartless place sometimes that's all too willing to poke ginormous holes in a person's self-esteem.

I admit that I haven't read any of Alvin Price's work. It's quite possible that this quote has been taken out of context and isn't at all cringe-worthy. However, it's easy for parents to forget about the most important part of self-esteem... SELF.

Self-esteem comes from inside, not outside. That's what self means.

My daughter's feelings of confidence and accomplishment didn't come from compliments or hollow praise. She was proud of herself. She knew she had done something worthwhile, and she felt good about herself because of it.

That's how self-esteem - real self-esteem - is built. It's not a bucket that can be filled by the parents at all. It must come from inside the child. It comes from achievement. It comes from setting goals and reaching them, from taking on challenges and conquering them, from setting expectations and surpassing them. The most parents can do is put their children in situations that foster those inner feelings of pride and accomplishment.

And sometimes the self-esteem is formed BECAUSE of those holes the world keeps trying to poke. Overcoming adversity builds confidence and self-assurance. Maybe those holes aren't so evil. Maybe they are just opportunities for your child to plug them up all on his own, and then feel good about it. Not because his parents told him he was clever, but because he proved it to himself. Nobody can take that away from him.

Sometimes those holes come in the form of big, heavy grown-ups.

Sometimes all it takes is a good hip toss to plug those holes back up again.

Profanity, Censorship, and Mixed Martial Arts

This past Saturday, I got a real treat: an hour of unexpected free time and control of the TV remote. This is the kind of opportunity I rarely get to experience (Like on Mother's Day, my birthday, or really early in the morning when everyone else is asleep). Possession of the remote is golden in this house. The race to acquire it is like the battle at the cornucopia in The Hunger Games. The strongest and bravest usually gains possession. It's never me because, to be perfectly honest... my kids kind of frighten me.

It was just sitting there all alone and unguarded on the arm of the couch with not a child in sight, so I risked it. I slipped off my shoes, propped up me feet, and started surfing channels like a pro. (This didn't actually happen. I'm rather unversed in the technical workings of the remote due to my infrequent possession of such a sacred object. There are too many confusing buttons for me to use it with any confidence, authority, or professionalism. I do at least know how to use the channel and volume buttons without tech help from the children.)

I settled on the UFC 188 prelims. Don't judge me. It was 2 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. The choice was between MMA and some landscaping show on the Home & Garden channel. Watching men pummel each other in the face is way more entertaining than watching men plant begonias. Just sayin'. (UFC stands for Ultimate Fighting Championship for those of you who prefer gardening.)

As I was sitting there stretched out on my couch, snacking on junk food, and watching blood splatter across the floor as one guy repeatedly hammer-fisted this other guy in the ear, I realized something odd.  It didn't seem particularly odd that I, a middle-aged, minivan-driving, suburban mother of four, was spending her free Saturday afternoon thoroughly engrossed in mixed martial arts (in spite of this episode's disappointing lack of Ronda Rousey). No, that something odd was the bleeping of television censorship. Now if the bleeping had been a public service to save viewers' ears from the glass-shattering eardrum-splitting irritation that is Joe Rogan's voice, I would have been eternally grateful. But it wasn't. It was censorship bleeping to cover offensive language... you know? Psychologically scarring words like "shit" and "damn" and horrific f-bombs and who knows what else because I couldn't hear it over that irritable bleeping noise.

I realize that it was 2 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. I realize that impressionable young children are awake and aware and quite possibly watching television at that hour of the day. I realize that many parents don't want the purity of their children's ears tainted with profane language. Some adults consider profanity to be the gateway to all sorts of delinquent behavior. (If it weren't for those vigilant broadcast censors we'd probably have a whole generation of gangster thugs looting shops and setting fire to stolen vehicles all through the streets of Baltimore.)

Oh my BLEEP! That's a lot of BLEEPing blood!
Photo Source: chrislicona

Oh, the irony!

If you missed it, let me paint you a clearer picture. Two half-naked guys in a cage are beating each other. There is blood everywhere, streaming down one guy's face, covering the other's hands, splattering across the floor with each successive punch. One guy gets slammed to the ground and held there while he is repeatedly elbowed across his already broken and bloody nose. I've seen less blood in an episode of The Walking Dead.

Meanwhile, all of the curse words are painstakingly covered with inserted bleeps... because impressionable children and other people with delicate constitutions might be tuning in.

But this is the UFC, not The Walking Dead. This isn't fantasy violence cooked up in some Hollywood studio. There is no CGI (computer generated imagery) and that's not Karo syrup tinted with red food coloring pooling around that guy's ear. Those aren't actors wincing in pain. They are very real people covered in each other's blood and actually beating the shit out of each other. (Only I can't say "shit" because it might mentally scar someone.)

This is a joke, right?

Are there people out there that are more disturbed by certain four letter words than by actual human blood spray? I'm not sure I want to meet those people.

I'm not insinuating that UFC or other televised mixed martial arts should be censored. I'm not even insinuating that they are generally disturbing. I did sit and watch it with genuine enthusiasm while binging on junk food. And while there were more than a few moments that made me cringe in empathized pain, I was still able to appreciate the skill and athleticism that such intense competition demands. I am confused, however, that broadcasters and viewers don't bat an eyelash at the twisted logic of censoring language over violence (because there's no getting around the fact that mixed martial arts is violent. It might be somewhat controlled violence... but it's still violence.)

If we are censoring out of concern for children emulating behavior viewed on television, we might need to reconsider our censoring priorities. If Little Johnny, repeats one of those bleeped out words, if he drops an f-bomb at Sunday dinner, the only casualty would be Grandma's gasp of shock and horror that caused her to choke on the mashed potatoes (and maybe Little Johnny's bottom... but that depends on his family's parenting style). However, if Little Johnny attempts the flying armbar he witnessed during a UFC bout on his neighborhood buddies, there's liable to be a trip to the emergency room. And let's just pray he doesn't try out a sleeper choke on his baby sister.

If we are bleeping out filthy language out of concern for the consequences of children imitating behavior, then it seems like blurring out the blood and the blows would be of a higher concern.

Words are just words. They aren't dangerous or damaging in and of themselves. Shouting "F*ck!" at the top of your lungs isn't going to hurt anyone (unless they actually trip over their own shock and disgust). The intentions behind words is what makes them hurtful and damaging, not the words themselves.

This isn't true of violence. Plenty of convicted murderers have walked away from a trial saying "I didn't mean to kill him." People hurt each other in fits of anger on a regular basis. And if a child mirrors a maneuver he witnessed on television, he could hurt someone, even if his intentions aren't violent.

But there are also plenty of studies done on the long-term emotional and cognitive effects on children who witness violence. Does it really matter if the violence is filtered through a television screen and marketed as entertainment?

Then there is the desensitization over violence for entertainment. There are enough YouTube videos of actual violence to prove that citizens are more apt to capture a beating to share with social media followers than to actually intervene. Violence is entertaining, after all.

One would think that a world that seems to regularly experience the horrors of mass-shootings and the rise of violent crime might be more concerned with children viewing public, blood-soaked brawls (especially those packaged as entertainment) than with their tender ears hearing an arbitrary list of words that some television officials have rather arbitrarily deemed inappropriate.

Or maybe I'm crazy. My children have been know to (occasionally) have potty mouths.

But perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised. We live in a world where what people say is more important than what they do (Don't believe me? Take a look at our elected officials), a world where simply saying something politically incorrect can ruin public image beyond repair, a world where a person's accomplishments don't hold as much weight as their promises.

We live in a world that exalts symbolism over substance.

And words are just symbols.

I admit that they are sometimes powerful symbols, although probably not as powerful as Gabriel Benitez' leg kicks.

It's a messed up world, and I don't know the answer. What I suggest: sign Little Johnny up for karate lessons. Let him learn the discipline, respect, and self-control (not to mention proper application of technique) that serious study in martial arts helps foster. In the long run, it might help temper a violent world.

And while you're at it... sign his baby sister up, too. She might need to learn when to "tap out".

Not Bad For A Girl

"Not bad for a girl."

It made me cringe from the top of my head down the tips of my blue-painted toenails. Words spoken by a father to his little girl about her belt promotion in karate. It wasn't meant to be mean. He was just kidding. It was their little inside joke. He couldn't be prouder, actually.

But he still said the words.

And she still heard them.

What kind of message does that send? That her performance would have been better if she were male? That girls don't have to live up to the same standards as their male peers? Maybe that she'll never be as good as the guys, so maybe she shouldn't try? That she is less capable of excellence because she's "just a girl"?

I don't know what that little girl heard in her daddy's words. Maybe it doesn't mean anything at all to her. Maybe it IS just an inside joke, and I'm totally over-reacting.

But maybe I'm not.

Being a girl in any male-dominated sport isn't easy. It's often incredibly difficult to be taken seriously. The guys tend to look at the girls as weaker, more fragile, and less aggressive, as having less potential just because of their gender. It leaves female participants constantly trying to gain respect, to prove themselves in a field where men hold the gold standard.

I hold a black belt in karate, and I've heard the whispers of doubt from male students about how much easier it was for me, that instructors aren't as rough with "the girls", that maybe I didn't pay the same price for my rank as the guys did. I've heard other students insult each other saying, "Come on! You hit like a GIRL!" As if it were the worst possible insult.  I've heard  bad jokes about "where a woman's place is, and it isn't in the dojo."

I've sparred guys who refused to hit me at all, because of my gender, and I've sparred guys who were insanely rough, who played their hardest in an attempt to win at all cost, or to push me to my limits and make me quit. I realize that the guys kind of have it tough, that they will be shamed for being "beaten by a girl" or shamed for beating one up. It's a lose/lose situation for the male ego and probably explains why many of them would like the ladies to just go away... or at least stick to training with the other girls (Although there aren't usually very many of them around... it is a male-dominated sport, after all).

It's all part of training and competing in those traditionally masculine sports. The girls are going to deal with disrespect and ridicule and rude comments. They are going to be underestimated and not taken seriously (which is often a competitive advantage, but still insulting). They might even have their sexuality questioned. It's all going to come out on the training floor... not every time, but eventually... and it's going to be an ugly emotional mess.

So, don't make it worse, Dad. You're supposed to be a source of encouragement and support, a safe place to land. Let her know that you believe in her, with ALL of your words. Because if she sticks with it, she's going to deal with enough shit out there on the mat. Let her know her efforts and her hard work are enough without the gender-based conditions you place on her ability.

Believe in her so that she can believe in herself. Right now, when the kids are young, there's a lot less difference in strength and ability between genders. Believe in her now, so that when the anatomical differences in strength and build put her at a very real disadvantage, she won't hesitate to hip toss that 220 pound man... because she believes she can. She won't hesitate because she's "just a girl".

And just for the record, I've seen my daughter completely own boys on the mat, boys much bigger and stronger than she is. She is tough and fast and confident. Maybe because she's never been told she's "just a girl"... at least not by her parents. She can seriously kick butt... which is pretty good by any standard.

...and would be pretty good even if she were "just a boy".

On Losing My Black Belt

I'm depressed.

In fact, I haven't been this depressed in quite a long time. I got up this morning, staggered around the house aimlessly sipping my morning coffee, and then crawled back in bed. After a good cry, and a good half hour of staring at the ceiling, I got up and checked my email, and then tore the house apart... again.

I could blame my mood on the overly-gloomy weather, or the fact that Mercury is currently in retrograde, or that it's January and the lack of sunshine is stirring up my SAD. I could blame it on any of those things, but I'd be lying.

My black belt is missing.

It's not where it should be. In fact, it's not any of the thousands of places it shouldn't be, either. I know because several people have checked all of those places, too... repeatedly.

This isn't a matter of me being careless. Seriously, I'm more careful with my black belt than I usually am with my own kids. Which might explain how I left my youngest at the gym that one time... and how I left the third at the dojo one night... and maybe even that time I almost drove off and left one of them at Stone Mountain, Georgia (although that wasn't entirely my fault. Not one of the other kids thought to say, "Hey, mom. Our brother isn't in the van." I think they were all secretly plotting to get rid of him so they could eat his share of the snack foods.) But hey, there are four of those boogers to keep up with, and they are always milling around and running in opposite directions. Don't judge me!

Obi, if you're wandering around out there somewhere,
please know that I love you and want you to come home.

I always fold my obi carefully and deliberately each time I wear it and place it in my bag under my gi. That's where it stays until I wear it again.  It's always with my gi, either in my bag or around my waist. Only last night it wasn't. It isn't anywhere.

I'm sure it seems silly to the uninitiated for me to be so morose over the loss of a length of black fabric, but I couldn't be more devastated if I'd lost my wedding ring or a priceless family heirloom or a thousand dollars.

That length of black fabric was more than four years and a torn meniscus in the earning. It represented sweat and tears and bruises and even a little blood. It represented failures and successes. It represented dedication and respect and hard work. I paid for that belt with hours and hours of training and the stretching of myself beyond what I thought I could stretch. It represented a goal reached, a goal that was fought for tooth and nail.

I slept with it the first night. Or rather I sat perched on the couch with it draped over my neck, watching late night reruns of Gilligan's Island, icing the knee and wondering  who I could call at 3:23 AM to please, for the love of god, bring me some hard core pain medication.

That poor little obi was only 19 months old, just barely losing it's stiff newness... and it's lost out there in the world all alone without me.

Have you seen this black belt?
Reward offered for it's safe return.

Sure, I could buy another one... but it wouldn't be MY black belt. It wouldn't be the one that was tied around my waist after being carried back out on the mat by my husband and my Sensei, the one that I smiled over receiving even though my face was tear-stained and my knee was swelling.

So it sucks.

And I'm depressed.

I usually like to end a blog entry with some sort of lesson or wisdom for the reader to take away. Well, too bad. I don't have one.

Except for maybe this...

Don't tell me that it will probably show up. Just don't. It's like implying that I carelessly tossed it somewhere and have just forgotten about it, that it will soon be seen peeking out from under the bed or from between the couch cushions and I'll just be like, "Oh, that's right. How could I forget that I left it there?" That's not happening 1) because seriously, I treat that thing like it's gold, and 2) I've already looked all of those places at least a dozen times even though I know it couldn't possibly be there. I know you are just trying to make me feel better, but you aren't.

So stop.

Maybe the proper sentiment would be to say, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Just acknowledge my grieving.

Being carried off the mat during testing.

UPDATE: The missing obi has been found! After overt displays of affection and a stern talking to ("Don't you EVER do that to me again!"), it is now in it's proper place in my bag under my gi... and I've only checked three times in the last few minutes to make sure it's still there.

Brand New Black Belts - Unexpected Life Lessons Learned Through Martial Arts

Like the majority of moms out there, I love to embrace any and all opportunities to brag about my children. Since I have a blog, I get to brag to a whole heck-of-a-lot more people. (It's really one of the few perks, along with free life advice from nasty internet trolls.) Fortunately for me, my children give me an abundance of opportunities to brag about them. (They are pretty awesome kids even though they routinely forget to take out the garbage.)

Saturday my two middle children tested for their junior black belts in Isshinryu Karate. It was an epic test of endurance and sweat and skill and tears. It was emotional for them and me. And at the end, they received their hard-earned belts and all of the rank and privilege that come with them. I was full of so much pride that it welled to overflowing, causing a bit to leak out of the corners of my eyes. I promise they weren't tears.  That was liquid pride!

While the test largely focused on the rote knowledge of karate history and their physical ability to throw a punch or perform a kata, there are certainly an abundance of other things they've learned along the way. Their scores reflected what their examiners saw with their eyes, at that moment, on that particular day. However, there are real and important things they've learned through martial arts that were not reflected in their test scores. Like Albert Einstein said, "Everything that can be counted does not necessarily count; everything that counts cannot necessarily be counted."

Here are the major life lessons that martial arts has given to my children:

1. Commitment Is Not the Same As Passion. My kids were so excited on their first day of karate class. Probably for the first several months, they looked forward to class like they would an amusement park trip or a birthday party. But as time passed, the newness and excitement started to wear off.  Karate didn't seem so fun anymore, but it wasn't the fun that kept them training in the dojo. It was commitment and dedication.

You might hear motivational speakers preach that if you want to achieve a goal, you must want it with undying passion, that you must desire success as badly as a drowning man desires oxygen. But once you've spent months upon months training with no vacation or off-season, waking up sore and tired, wishing you could just stay home and watch tv, but training anyway, you'll understand that desire isn't what keeps you going.  Many times my children had an incredible desire to just stay home and play video games (an immediate desire which I assure you was often stronger than their immediate desire to reach black belt).

It might be passion that motivated them to take the first steps on their martial arts journey, but it had to evolve into something deeper to keep  them there.  That's called commitment.  Commitment to themselves.  Commitment to their training partners.  Commitment to their teacher.  Commitment to consistency.

It's easy to just walk away from something you were once passionate about once the fiery feelings begin to mellow.  It's almost impossible to just walk away from deep-seated commitment. Kids these days don't have a lot of opportunities to learn the beauty and strength of commitment. Martial arts is one place they can learn that valuable lesson.

2. Failure Is Not Always Negative.  Through years of martial arts training, my children have failed more times than can be counted. In fact, they fail on a regular basis. They take punches that hurt. They are thrown, kicked, and knocked down. They have been forced to submit by people with far more skill than they possess.  Week after week, month after month, year after year, they have made mistakes and lost matches.

Over time, they began to realize that the major difference between them and the higher ranking black belts had nothing to do with black belt super powers or their own general level of suckage. The major difference between them and the black belt who completely owns them on the mat, is that the black belt has simply failed more times. So every time one of my kids failed to block a punch, or got kicked in the ribs because their guard was down, or got submitted by armbar, they got up off the mat, dusted themselves off, and learned from the experience.

In life, like in karate, one must fail many times before success is reached. Society's most successful people got to where they are by failing many, many times. Nobody gets it right on the first try. The martial artist learns that failure isn't a negative thing.  He learns to see it as a necessary step to success. He learns that failure isn't the end, that he just needs to get back up, learn from the experience, and try again.

3. The Importance of Interdependence. Parents often sign their children up for martial arts classes in the hopes that their little ones will become more independent.  While martial arts can definitely help create independence by developing a sense of individual pride through hard work, achievement and healthy competition, martial arts also has an incredible ability to promote a vital connectivity and sense of belonging. It creates community.  My children often refer to their training partners as their "dojo family".

Somewhere along the way, they realized that every class isn't a competition. That when one student improves, the entire class improves. That their training partners are there to help them improve, not to make them look bad. That without each other, they would get nowhere.

In a society that often glorifies independence and views interdependence as a weakness, my children instead see the value of cooperation and collaboration. I watched them work together with their fellow testing candidates to prepare for their tests.  They coached each other on throws and fighting technique and details of kata.  They quizzed each other on vocabulary and shared history notes.  During the test they offered support and encouragement to one another, even in the midst of grueling sparring matches.  When one of them got knocked down, someone else was there to reach out their hand to lift them back up. And when they finished the test, they celebrated as a community with tears, and hugs, and high fives.

In life, the most successful people are not entirely independent.  They find strength and greatness in interdependence. By combining their strengths and talents with the strengths and talents of others, they reap even better results and create community along the way. For my children, martial arts gave them their first experience with interdependence (at least outside of their biological family).

4. Most Of Our Limits Are Set In Our Own Minds. While it's true that your elbow will only straighten so far before ligaments pop, most of our limits aren't physical. I've watched my children push themselves through one more rep, one more roll, to take just one more punch when they sincerely  thought they couldn't. Most of their limits weren't physical, but mental, and mental limits can be pushed and stretched. Growth happens outside of their comfort zones, and martial arts has a way of constantly pushing past those zones.

I watched my children, at the end of a physically taxing two and a half hour test, sweaty and exhausted, having been beaten and bruised, when everything inside of them screamed to just give up, reach down inside of themselves for a determination and resolve they didn't know they had (And quite frankly, I didn't know they had either). With character and courage, they persevered.

By pushing themselves farther than they thought they could go, my children learned to tap unfulfilled potential. They learned that they are capable of much more than they thought. They learned that they are capable of dealing with new and unexpected circumstances, and they will surely find it easier to push their own boundaries (both physical and mental) in the future.

5. Stop And Smell The Flowers on The Side of the Highway.  Martial arts has a way of forcing mindfulness. It's incredibly difficult to think about unfinished homework, or a bad test grade, or this afternoon's nasty argument with a best friend while someone is actively attempting to side kick them in the ribs. In the midst of battle, it is nearly impossible (and incredibly unwise) to think about anything other than what is happening right in front of them. Their minds must be entirely focused on the moment, otherwise they're going to get the breath knocked out of them.

We live in a culture that glorifies achievement and focuses on future rewards. College graduation. The next career advancement or salary increase. The two weeks worth of vacation coming up. Retirement. While peering off into the future, we miss the beauty of our everyday lives.

In martial arts the next new new belt color or shiny tournament trophies seem cool, but the meat of martial arts is to be found in the process of improvement, the discovering of new techniques, the hard lessons learned, the obstacles overcome.

My children have learned through their training to appreciate the process (hopefully) without fixating on any one goal. They are better able to focus on  what's directly in front of them, in the present, instead of constantly wishing their lives away off into a distant future. Like focusing on one incoming punch at a time, they can focus on what they can improve in their martial arts (and in themselves) today, rather than being overwhelmed with what they can't see coming in the future. They are better able to enjoy the journey of life, one step at a time, instead of worrying about their destination.

...But they'll be ready for whatever's coming, too.  That's why they learned to keep their guard up.

And because I haven't finished bragging about my awesome kids, here are some pictures. Because these kids are awesome!

Black Belts Aren't Burkhas - Why Miss Nevada Was Spot On

Feminists across the globe got their panties tied in knots this past weekend after the winner of the Miss USA Pageant, Nia Sanchez (AKA Miss Nevada) made some horribly insensitive comments about sexual assault on American college campuses.  Ms. Sanchez, a fourth degree black belt in Taekwondo, had the unmitigated gall to suggest that women learn to protect themselves.  Gasp!

Why angry feminists were following the Miss USA Pageant when beauty contests have never been a big hit with the women's rights crowd is beyond me.  Perhaps they were looking for a reason to be offended, and apparently Ms. Sanchez provided them with enough fuel for their fury that they didn't have time to be offended by the swimsuits and high heels and questionable talent routines.

The backlash that is rippling through social media outlets probably warrants a heavy surf advisory.  Nia Sanchez has been accused of "promoting rape culture", "victim shaming", and other horrific crimes against humanity.  And the popular feminist mantra, "How about we teach men not to rape," chants steadily in the background of this idiotic sisterhood shit storm.

Here's just a sampling of the madness Nia Sanchez' comments about self defense training for women sparked:

Miss Nevada was asked about rape at colleges and answered that women need to learn to defend themselves… OR MEN COULD JUST NOT RAPE.

Miss Nevada described how individuals need to protect themselves from rape, instead of teaching others not to rape. Stop the victim blaming.

Sick of hearing “women need to learn self defense from sexual violence” We need a culture we don’t have to defend ourselves from

Women shouldn't need to learn to protect themselves against rape #missnevada educate and respect yourself as a woman #rapeculture

Miss Nevada: How is it a woman’s responsibility to learn to protect herself from rape? #MissUSA2014 #getaburkatoo

Now I've been known to rant until I'm hoarse about society's objectification of women (here and here are just a couple of examples).  But...are you freakin' kidding me?  I just can't seem to follow the logic in these comments.  Apparently Nia Sanchez's black belt is akin to a burkha?  A woman who trained for twelve years in a disciplined martial art and who worked with dedication and perseverance to accomplish a high skill level is lacking in self-respect?  Refusing to be a victim of sexual assault is equivalent to shaming victims of sexual assault?  I'm confused here, ladies.

I thought feminism was about female empowerment, but these tweets seem to suggest otherwise.  Instead of empowering women to be independent and confident and self-sufficient, it seems these women would embrace a form of feminism that actually disempowers women, that leaves them stalled in victim mode, waiting for men to change in order for them to feel safe and secure.  Since when did feminism leave women relying on men as a source of women's safety and security?  That's giving men all of the power.  Instead of women reaching for (and achieving) their own personal power, grabbing the bull by horns, and enabling themselves, these feminists would instead try to change other people (men in particular)... all while loudly complaining about how unfair life is.

These feminists are a bunch of shameless hypocrites who would leave women unable to defend themselves, unprepared to resist assault, and patiently waiting for a unicorn- and rainbow-filled utopia where men don't do vulgar and nasty things to women.  Call me crazy, but that seems completely counter-productive to the tenets of feminism.  It puts the power right back in the laps of men while simultaneously stripping it from women (and believe me when I say there's a really sexist metaphor here about men and lap dances and overly ambitious exotic dancers).

Here's the deal.  Maybe there is no "rape culture" in America.

Are women sexualized and objectified and trivialized in American culture?  Yes.  I'm not arguing that point.

However, to say we live in a "rape culture" is to insinuate that rape is normal and acceptable. But we live in a culture that treats rape as a crime so heinous and unforgiving that even false accusations ruin men's lives.  No one is "teaching" men to rape.  And men aren't anxiously awaiting any opportunity to get away with sexual assault. The vast majority of American men would never even consider such a wickedly shameful act, in spite of what the overly vocal feminist misandrists might try to preach.  The average American man isn't out slipping roofies in drinks or lurking down dark alleys waiting for their next helpless victim untrained in self-defense.

Here's a handy little piece of information for the women's libbers who cry "rape culture" to chew on.  According to Bureau of Justice statistics, the estimated annual rate of female sexual assault in the United States is actually plunging.  Between 1995 and 2010, the annual rate declined by 58%.  I don't share this to trivialize the awful violation of any individual's experience with rape or sexual assault, but only to show that we might be on our way to that happy place of rainbows and unicorns and no rape that the furious feminists have been desperately wishing for.

Of course, we'll spend our whole lives wishing for that childish Utopian fantasy and sacrifice our daughters' safety and well-being in the process.  Because rape has existed since the dawn of humankind.  There have always been brutally violent deviants... and as much as I would like to say otherwise... there always will be.  For feminists to sit behind their computer keyboards screaming that they shouldn't have to live in a world where rape exists is like screaming that they shouldn't have to live in a world where vandalism, murder, thievery, and cliff-hanger endings to Game of Thrones exist.  The reality is, we DO live in that world.  So we can whine and complain and tweet nasty things about Miss USA, or we can take charge of our own destinies and empower ourselves to defend against dangerous vile men in ways beyond pissing ourselves.

Do I wish I lived in a world where my daughters didn't have to worry about walking alone at night, or guarding their drinks at parties, or "flirting" with men who might get the wrong idea?  Hell yes!  But that world only exists in fairy tales (which ironically are very anti-feminist).  So instead of wallowing in the self-pity and moral righteousness of the feminist "victims", I'll spend my energy raising my daughters to be strong, confident, take-charge young women who know how to defend themselves.

Watch out for those knees and elbows guys.  This mama ain't raisin' no victims:

My youngest daughter about to deliver a flying kick to the head

My oldest daughter in competition

Black belts aren't burkhas.